A Home Worth Returning To
by Requiem of Silence
Summary: An AU, of sorts. Al's body and soul are separated from each other, each acting of their own accord. Al's physical form functions normally, but his spirit is broken by the loss of his identity.
1. In The End

**A Home Worth Returning To**

A Fullmetal Alchemist fic

**Chapter I:** In the End

Author's Note: An AU, a what if story. This totally focuses on Alphonse and is written in Al's POV. Also, it may be an Elricest. I haven't decided yet, but it may be RoyAl too. (Royal, I love that fic! I like the name especially.)

Disclaimer: All characters are owned by a bunch of dudes who are a lot ricer than me. I own none of these characters. Thanks for reading and enjoy after these messages . . .

**Spoiler Warning!** **If you haven't seen the whole series I suggest approaching this written work with EXTREME caution. **

* * *

"N - niisan!" I screamed.

Frozen. Impaled. His face, horror struck. Pain, confusion, terror. All those emotions so close to the human heart now displayed in his eyes, his hair, his body that swayed and dropped to the floor. The blood pooled around him in an aura of red splendour. Envy stood, looking self-satisfied with his kill. And Brother lay there. Immobile and slipping away. Leaving me again. Losing for me again. I couldn't stand it. He had to be the one to win it all by losing everything he had. Why?

"ED!" Rose . . .

"Niisan can't die like that. He can't be dead!" Dead. It occured to me, how hollow the word was when I said it. The imagined taste of its sick and sorrowful bitterness. Dead, like I should have been. Would have been. But niisan exchanged places. The most honourable person. The most proud.

Brother never thought of it, but he was one with so much pride, he kept enough for both of us. Even if he was told so, he'd say he had no reason to be proud. He always made himself the bad one, he could never cope if he wasn't the bad one. Unsure of what's right and wrong anymore, he turned all that he did into evil things so he could know that this life, his limbs, my body, they were punishments from something. Someone. Paying the price for the things he did wrong.

And yet, at the same time he didn't wish for the fall from grace. Doing the right thing and being slapped in the face by the people he saved. Other times, they fell to his feel, eternally grateful. He wouldn't admit this either, but he liked to be thanked.

"He - he's dead?" Wrath whimpered.

Envy turned to the nearly limbless homunculus. "Yes, he's dead. Everyone's dead. Only the homunculus survives." And he laughed. A long, mirthful laugh that filled the room and bounded across the walls.

"Niisan! He - He's dead. No . . . that's not right! He can't be dead, that . . . that's too weird," I murmured. This swimming feeling in my head. Nothing could ever compare with the suffering that is concentrated in this one moment. A lifetime of torture over seeing him die. I would take that offer without hesitation, if it meant he would live. He has to. Our dreams, their realization, it has been farther now than it ever has before.

"This is reailty, or is the price too high?" Dante said, her voice clip, as if this was how it was meant to be. As if she knew it all along. That Niisan would be killed.

Gluttony barreled towards me and I couldn't move. My grief weighed down all that was left in me to live. Farther than this, I can remember nothing. A blur in my memory. I do not want to seek these memories out, because the next thing I can remember is warmth, and that is good enough for me. Touch, sensations by outer forces have been lost and in my mind I am numb. I found myself, bent over Niisan, fingers pressed gently to his face and a trickle of warmth spread across my finger tips. I've pretended to feel a lot before, trying to hold on to what 'cold' and 'hot' was. What 'soft' and 'smooth' and 'feathery' and 'silken' meant to me before I was saved from Death's embrace, but this was real. Maybe it was the Stone that caused this. Maybe it was final 'sight' before . . . that.

"Niisan is not dead yet . . . Look . . . he's so warm."

Dante, the master mind, she looked distraught but she was unable to do anything. As long as I was the Stone, she couldn't touch me and by the time she found her wits and used me, I'd have already saved my brother. Used me. Had I lost all my humanity to this?

"His soul is now inside the Gate. He'd be saved if his soul could be retrieved. Just like what my brother did for me . . . "

"Stop it! If you do that . . ."

"I - !" I paused. "My sacrifice will destroy the Philosopher's Stone. I should have been dead that day." The guilt caused pangs in my heart every day. Every time I saw his automail arm. Every time I glimpsed his glove. His sleeve. Nothing could hide the muffled sound of metal scraping each other. Faint perhaps, but that emotion made it wail when I heard it.

Envy came out of his shock and prepared an attack. "It's dangerous . . . " I mumbled.

There the Gate stood before me. Doors carved with that hypnotic pattern. Familiar but vague. I remember this from that night. I remember beyond the Gate. There was no Heaven or Hell. There was only blackness and maybe . . . Truth. But only if you glimpsed. Only if you passed and left, paying the price for admission. I understand now, my body and soul and my brother's leg were taken, but Niisan only had his leg taken, so in that span of time . . . in that time he saw Truth. But then I was still grasping the fact that I was at the Gate, that Brother's soul was standing only inches from the doors, as if he were waiting for them to open.

I saw the doors crack open and the black, snake-like things take hold of his arms. He seemed dazed, like he didn't know he was going to disappear forever, in front of my very eyes for the second time. I wouldn't let it happen again. So I grabbed him. I yanked him away and dragged him off the platform. Perhaps, I had thought, that taking him away would send him back. I pushed him and he caught himself.

His still hollow eyes stared at me and I watched him, even as the Gate's messengers wrapped themselves around my body, even as I was being forcibly pulled into the Gate once again. I hoped he would regain the life that sparked my adoration in those eyes. Turning from the dull brass they were to the polished gold they'd been ever since I can remember.

"Al?"

One last glimpse of those eyes. Then cold.

I was freezing. Yellow and white streaking across my vision and tumbling downwards. I saw a mirror image from nearly five years ago. It was me. I found it strange to see myself like that. Curled into a ball, as if sleeping. It seemed the further I fell, the farther from my body I went, as if while I descended, it rose higher and higher out of my reach. I stretched out to my body. It was mine, after all. I had the right. It was supposed to be like this. A transparent arm reached before my eyes. My soul, I assumed. Filmy, like my brother's visage was the last time I saw him.

Minutes may have passed. Maybe hours. It just seemed like one long winding path where you could lose yourself in your thoughts and not know what time of day it was, or how long you've been there because a canopy covers the sky and the road doesn't appear to end. It was something like that, where the time you entered and the time spent in there sort of blurred and you can't remember crossing the threshold. As if you were always there.

My body stopped drifting eventually and now it came closer, but always out of my reach. I heard a voice, calling for Hoenheim. Father. What was it that was so familiar about it? I didn't understand what was calling to him. It could have been me, but I said nothing. In fact, I hadn't spoken a word since I saved my brother. Somehow, this didn't seem so odd to me.

Only inches apart from one another. My body slipping away from my futile groping. I couldn't even brush the bright aura surrounding it. Frustration mounted. Why was I still stuck here? The logic of the Gate, how it worked. Even now it is a mystery to me. I, who spent the longest time deep within the Gate. Even Wrath only sat where that dark abyss my teacher called Hell was. Only skimming the surface of what was within. A long tunnel of light.

What would happen to me. I seemed to think of nothing at all as I tried to go back to my body. Even now, when everything was all over I still couldn't get to it. It was so unfair. Was it because I couldn't trade anything to get my body back any more? Did I have to sell my soul to get it back? What was the point in that?

"AL!"

I looked to the side. As if watching a scene replayed in my mind, I saw my brother fighting through a cloud of snickering black bodies, reaching for my body. "Niisan!" I uttered, so surprised to see him.

Brother looked at me in surprise . . . "Al?" He cursed and tore away from the dark things and came down to me, also falling. "Al!" He reached to me and I tried to take a hold of his hand. "Wha . . . what?"

My fingers went through his. I sighed and I felt a terrible sadness again. I couldn't touch him. I still couldn't feel him. "What are you doing here?" I asked, trying to hide my disappointment.

"To get you, of course!" he replied, not sounding pleased, but relatively cheerful, none the less.

"You idiot! Why did you come for me again!" I demanded. All the frustration had shortened my temper. Didn't my sacrifice mean anything to him! Why did he come and get me again and again. Sometimes, I could almost hate him.

"What? Why wouldn't I?" he asked, seeming confused at my anger.

"Idiot! Leave! Go back and don't come after me again!" I berated my older brother. He had to be the stupid, brazen one with too big a heart. Maybe that was what drove Winry insane. He was a genius, no doubt, but he was also incredibly hot-headed and tended to jump into situations and form plans while everything began to crumble around him.

"What are you talking about! I'll never leave you! I can't just let you vanish!" he retorted hotly. I almost smiled. This was the brother I remember, not the empty thing I had taken from the Gate.

"And I can't let you disappear either!"

"Don't argue with your older brother!"

"Why can't I!"

"Because . . . Because! Now go ahead and leave, goddammit!"

I glared at him. "No! No! You go! You shouldn't have to go again! Everyone will be sad . . . they'll kill you."

"Too late for that," he muttered.

My eyes widened. "You didn't . . . "

He took my overload of emotions as a sign to catch me offguard. "Go!" He shoved me and my body somewhere, but I heard him say I love you.

"Niisan! Stop!" I tried to snatch any part of him, but came up empty-handed. How did he touch me if I could not touch him? This wasn't exactly what I would call fair. "Niisan! Niisan!" I must have looked so mad at him, but I felt empty inside, my stomach catching itself and knotting again and again. The strangest thing, was that my body lay on top of me, still glowing but I wasn't in it. Obviously, something was not right. I felt drained, with the body on me as if I were some kind of spirit matress. How was it squishing me if there was no floor beneath us?

"Later, Al," Brother said, giving a short wave before disappearing.

"Niisan!" I cried. "Niisan! Niisan! Niisan!"

The body twitched. I held my breath, wondering what was happening and how it could move on its own. Were the electrical impulses of the brain starting up again? Without me as the soul, it would be nothing, like Nina. That irked me somewhat, something that might look like me but wasn't me at all. I tried to enter it through the mouth, the head, everywhere. The window to the soul. Yes, our optics. But how to pry open his eyes if I can't grab his flesh to begin with? I gazed at the gathering black waves. What was I supposed to do to get me to wake up? It opened its eyes and stared at me. Not only did that frighten me out of my wits, it also dispelled any thought of going back in me. What in the world was this?

Not a second passed by where I could think of anything, until I (we?) came to the dark mass surrounding the opening of the Gate. My body moved and stood and seemed to realize that we had to go through. The blackness actually made way for us. Shuffling to the side, making a hole for us to pass. Equivalent exchange. So Niisan really was taken instead of me. But the Gate didn't work like that. Brother's limbs and my body got us nothing. Or at least, it gave us a sick, twisted something.

A violent shove pushed me right through my body, I might have screamed. I looked back, not wanting to fall forwards and trying to see who had assaukted me with such rage. Filled in my mind were pictures of machines, of people and places and pieces of art and Winry and Roy and Grandma. A flying metal bird. A 'mushroom cloud'. Explosions and fire. A cross and a star. Guns far more advanced than could ever be made by any alchemist. Thick gas being poured into a room filled with naked people. Rose with a little boy. The moon and a flag with red, white and blue, being put in. A strobe of light crashing into the desert. And Niisan, waving good-bye and running into a building, just as it imploded and hurled chunks of concrete everywhere, striking my eyes and my left arm. And the vision ended when black shapes pulled away from me again.

I was out.

* * *

I couldn't move. It hurt to move. My legs were folded under me, crumpled. I was blessed with the feeling of pain. This seering that cut across my neck, my forehead, my limbs and torso. Everything felt so hot and so freezing at the same time. Caught between the desert sands and snowy ice caps of a mountain. Cracking open my eyes was a nightmare.

I saw foggy images of people walking from a gap of light. An alley, I assumed. The wall was hard, but there wasn't any kind of cold or slime. I know I had only come to for a day, but already it felt like a month. I could see clearly, whenever I mustered up the courage to peek through. Just red. Blood. What had happened? My arms felt so limp, and there was something on them. Trailing down onto my knees, not covered by clothing. I could only feel the shorts and shirt, because they stuck to my body in places.

I tried to look to the side, there was another wall. I was probably back up to the very edge of the space. No one was going to find me. I listened to the chatter. Conversations blending, the loudest ones closest to me. I had awoken early in the morning, all I heard were simple hellos or nothing at all but slowly, as the sun shook off its sleep, more people walked around. Though, it was still very hushed most of the time and not many exchanged words helped me know where I was. The most I could gather was this was Central. Maybe I could move a little. But my head throbbed simply thinking about what would happen if I get up.

To some degree, whatever my brother had tried had worked. Maybe not in the way he had wanted it to. Where was he, beyond the Gate? Or was he like all the dead there? My imagination couldn't stand the mental picture of a golden-eyed devil child. Complete with braid and automail limbs. That was the most disturbing thought I'd had in ages. Maybe he went through the Gate. As in, _through_. Not just in or a look-see. To my understanding then, the dead would stay in the Gate. Beyond the place of swirling yellow and white streaks was another world, perhaps. Or the Truth we seeked out so badly.

For now, I pondered what I had seen.

I was certain it was the Truth my brother had claimed to see, but could I do what my brother could? It hadn't taken long before he found transmutation circles to be obsolete. A year, about. But he and I worked hard every single day and still he was a far better alchemist than I was even from the beginning. I couldn't wait a year, but searching for an item to help me was useless.

Unless I took the exam. The watch may give me the extra boost I'd need.

Again the pain increased when my legs lost their balance and my shoulder scraped against the wall. It was overwhelming. I just had to rest for a little while.

* * *

Perfume. The sweet, wafting scent was what woke me up. It wasn't that it was strong, but it was such a reminiscent smell. The smell of fresh grass and stew and flowers rolled into a fragrance unlike any that could be captured. This was the closest it could ever come to. A pretty brown-haired nurse smiled at me. She was only inches away from my face, marking something on a clip board. My eyelids fluttered, unabe to still themselves so I could have a clear look at the room.

"Good morning, dear," she said warmly.

I opened my mouth to speak. It sounded to me more like a whimper. "What's going on?"

Here jade eyes softened. "Oh dear, you have no idea, do you?" she asked.

"Huh?" I asked. I must have sounded so stupid then. It was forgivable. I was in a train wreck state right now. She must have understood. The miss was a tender person. I could tell.

"Oh," she smiled wanly, "Sergeant Farman found you in the alleyway at near death and he rushed you to the hospital immediately. You must have been through a lot. You lost a lot of blood. Do you remember what happened to you?"

I looked to the ceiling. Farman . . . Farman. Was he the quiet old man? "Niisan saved me but he . . . he . . . and then I was pushed and I woke up there," I said, my voice seemed hoarse. "Can I have some water?"

"Of course, dear," she said. She looked so sad. Was that because of what I said. I wiped my tears with my hand and turned my head to look out the window. Indeed, it was morning. One of the most dark mornings I've ever seen in my life, I might add. I looked down trying to see if everything was alright. How could I have lost blood? A morbid fascination took hold of my sight as I looked down at my left shoulder. My arm. Where the hell was my arm?

The nurse came in looking at me. Was the shock so apparent in my eyes? Did I look as absolutely terrified as I felt?

"Are you . . . all right?" she asked.

"My arm," I muttered. "Where did it - ?"

"Oh, Al . . . " she sighed.

I looked at her, my mind ready to shut itself down if one more surprise flew in and hit me sraightin the face. "You know . . . who I am?" If I wasn't a giant armor, no one would be abe to guess I was me. Even then, more than half of the people who I met thought I was my brother. 'Fullmetal' can be such a deceiving title.

"Of course," she said. "Alan Rilec, the boy who was presumably dead."

And as promised, I blacked out.

* * *

End Notes: Heh heh. I've wanted to do this fic since I finished the FMA series and thought; "Geez, Edward didn't handle being in somenone else's body very well . . . Could Al?" And this was born. I even did a character sketch for Alan! Even though I didn't know I'd name him Alan, but there's this scene in my head where both Als are there and then . . . yeah . . . you probably know what I wanna say. Alan means; "Bright, clear, handsome, amiable, glorious." If there is an Alan reading this, you are soooo lucky! I think this name suits him more than 'Alphonse'. Don't get me wrong, I love the name Alphonse and am determined to give that name to my son. Alphonse means: "Eager for battle." Does that sound like Al to you?

Not really. :sweat:

Urgh, some other stuff, I have my own theories on the Gate, since my subs suck like bloody hell I don't know everything about it and whether my beliefs conflict with what happens. I confuse myself sometimes.

Ah yes, and how exactly would you spell 'niisan'? I've seen it nii-san, which makes sense, considering -san is an honorific. Isn't Niisan the shortened form of Oniisan? There's also oniichan and that looks better as onii-chan. Grr, I just like how Niisan looks but I don't want to butcher the Japanese language! Also, I capitalized Niisan because Al seems to ONLY call his brother 'niisan' so I assume he can consider it a name for his brother.

Review and offer any suggestions! I will take it to heart and think about what you write. Flame, harsh critique, appreciation or otherwise.

_Next Time; Chapter Two: Two to Make One_

_Alphonse: My body a near perfect example of reviving the dead with Niisan paying the price. They have their Al, so what am I? I shouldn't be alive, and I can't take back my body. I should join Niisan and let him know everything's all right._


	2. Two To Make One

**A Home Worth Returning To**

**Chapter II: **Two to Make One

Author's Note: Erm . . . not much point here but . . . thank you for the review and feed back. Ah, especially to Gozilla and kurama-sweethart, who reviewed both my fics! Thanks especially especially because I probably would have quit this and Touka Koukan if I didn't receive all those glowing reviews!

**Disclaimer:** I do NOT own 'salem's Lot. That belongs to Mr. Stephen King and others so . . . uh . . . don't sue. Please?

* * *

"Do you know what's wrong with him?" a nasal voice breathed. He seemed annoyed, as if being called to do whatever he was doing was not worth it. Although, it sounded distorted, like listening through water.

"No. He must be in shock from losing his arm." Another man. This voice smooth and mildly sarcastic, not appreciating the difficulty of dealing with this other man. I recognize this voice. It sounds a lot like Colonel Mustang.

"How did he lose his arm?"

"Painfully."

I listened to their conversation. It sounded like they were talking around me, on every side. Or on top of me.

"Victim of a family suicide, eh? Sad. Alan . . . Alan something or other?"

"Rilec, doctor. And I wish you wouldn't treat it with such frivolity. This boy's safety and case is now under my jurisdiction. This could cause serious trauma and we need him as a witness." I let out a low moan, an attempt to hold a breath. That was odd, needing to breathe again. Alan. Why did they call me Alan? Was this some sort of freak accident and I landed in some other time or place? A gate's function, after all, is to separate one place from another, but allowing access between these two places if you could open it. But gates can go more than one way, right?

"Alan, are you up?" Colonel Mustang asked. His voice was louder and more clear now.

"Mustang-taisa, what's going on?" I muttered. My throat was parched. I forced my eyes open and looked straight into black pebbles. Yes, most definitely Colonel Mustang.

"So you know who I am then, hmm?" he asked.

"Of course," I answered. I didn't feel like co-operating with him right now. Niisan was dead. Or he's somewhere else. I may never see him again. I switched my gaze from the Colonel to the table and reached for the glass of water. The light shining through the window had fragments of orange and red to hint at the sun's leave. Maybe I'd only been out for a few hours. My hand was surprisingly unsteady. I tried to grasp the cup, but when I thought I had it, I missed. My hand brushed against what I saw as thin air.The cool feeling of glass jerked me into full awareness, but it only seemed to heighten my frustration on not being able to grab a cup. Colonel Mustang watched my short struggle to get a drink. His eyes were unreadable as he stared at me.

The doctor, who was a white blur at the foot of the bed, looked fascinated. "Ah," he said, as if he understood my plight. I started to think I hated this guy.

"Here, let me," Colonel Mustang picked up the glass and put it in my hand. His glove had an array on it, but to my eyes it was only a red splotch. His fingers helped to wrap mine on the cup so I gripped it without fail. I couldn't believe it! Here was the 'bastard Colonel' my brother loathed helping me drink. I could never have felt so humiliated or curious in my entire life.

"Thank you," I mumbled and brought the cup to my lips. I stopped short and looked at it in surprise. I pulled the cup away from my face and slowly brought it back. It seemed like the glass switched places when I brought it closer to me, starting towards my left and then going to the middle of my vision, where it was supposed to be. I didn't notice, but Colonel Mustang looked like he was going to bust his gut any second now.

"Do you need help drinking that?" he asked, his head cocked to the side with a condescending gaze.

I managed a small frown and shook my head, taking small sips and trying to ignore the fact my limb was missing and everything was messed up. I had to be strong, so I pretended I was my brother, his arm blown off by Scar. Even though Scar was dead and that was the wrong arm. I cringed at the mental picture if Scar had taken Brother's left arm instead of his right. Think of Niisan, remember how he had a poker face and tried to pretend it was all okay.

When I finished drinking, the room in complete silence since I woke up, I had trouble replacing it because the table was to my left. I struggled putting the cup back with my right arm. Mustang sighed and plucked the empty glass from my fingers.

"Sirs? Are you sure it's all right to interview him?" the pretty nurse's voice asked. I looked at the door but only a blue blur was there. Other than Mustang, who was a bit smudged himself, the room was out of focus. I rubbed my eyes and looked around again. No better.

"If it's all right with the patient," Mustang answered. "Alan?"

"I'm not Alan, I'm Alphonse," I said firmly.

"It's all right," the Colonel said. He spared me a quizzical glance before turning to the nasal-voiced doctor. "This is confidential, so I ask that you leave and invite First Lieutenant Hawkeye in."

"Of course."

The doctor swept out of the room and with the slam of the door I immediately started on Colonel Mustang. "Mustang-taisa, why are they calling me Alan Rilec? What family suicide? What am I a witness for?"

"What?" Colonel Mustang's usual mask cracked at my questions. Was I acting out of character? I didn't think so. These were all valid questions.

"Alan, you may not remember because the memories might have been suppressed but your family was killed. All evidence is substantial but we have reason to believe your older brother did it." Hawkeye said this as she pushed the door open, carrying a folder with her.

"What!" I exploded. "Niisan would never do that, and there was only him and me to begin with! You should know that, Ms. Hawkeye!" I glared at them both. What were they babbling about?

"Really?" she asked. "You must remember that up until now your family has never been in good terms with your brother, don't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" I protested. "Niisan got along with everyone except Dad!" Around now I had propped myself up against the head board. The loss of my arm was really starting to get annoying. I appreciated auto-mail even more and another pang of guilt went through me, as my brother spent five years without flesh limbs.

"Oh?" Colonel Mustang quirked an eyebrow. "Your father died fifteen years ago. Did your brother kill him?"

"NO!" I clenched my fist. "Who are you kidding! You met my dad in Liezenbul!" Hot tears were gathering at the corners of my eyes. What were they talking about? Mustang talked with my father seriously days after Niisan and I got the Philosopher's Stone.

"Liezenbul?" he asked. Again, a flicker of confusion. "Hmph, you're being delusional. Your family owns no property in Liezenbul."

"Because we burned it down!" I yelled in frustration. I slumped back and wanted to bang my head on the wall a couple of times, like Niisan would do when he was mad and talking about how boring work was and about the Colonel and how annoying and smug he could be. "Where am I! What date is it!" I demanded. I had to know.

"You're in Central Hospital, it's Thursday, July 10 of 1917," Mustang answered. He must have been humoring me, but I stared at him in shock. _1917?_ It was 1917? That's . . . impossible. This seemed so unreal. That meant I had spent around three years with a complete blank space in my head.

That's when I noticed for the first time. "You . . . you have an eye patch."

"Hm?" He touched the black band across his face and sighed. "It seems so."

"What happened?" I asked. What could have given him that? Maybe Niisan didn't know about this either. Though, even if he did know I don't think that in the time he arrived and the time he and I said our . . . good-byes . . . he could have told me.

"A nasty fight," he replied. "I don't think you're stable enough right now. Maybe in a few weeks we can continue this - "

"Wait!" I called, as he started out the door. "Can - can you come back tomorrow? Or send somebody?"

He paused and looked directly at me. "Sure."

And with that he left.

I blinked after the exchange, not knowing why exactly I had asked him to come back. I needed somebody to understand what was going on. Why was I like this? I pushed the strands of dark blond hair from my face, the casualness of that excited me inside. Normally that hair would be white. Normally I wouldn't have to push it from my face in the first place. Normally, if I'd been injured, I wouldn't feel a single thing. Not a twang of pain, no cringing from moving my head one way or another. Normally . . . normally if I were this badly injured Niisan would come over and tell me its all right and fix everything.

He could fix anything. Except himself.

With that thought staying and lengthening my guilt fetish, I barely noticed the nurse. I didn't see her watch me, appraising my looks and taking the glass, replacing it with some flowers from someone or other. Coming in every once in a while, staring and shaking her head. I didn't notice the people who would walk in and see me in a state of despair, wallowing in some kind of memory or fear unknown to them and leave after watching and feeling pity for me.

Night enclosed the sky and city, giving its ominous and morbid feeling to anyone who stood alone. And I stared at the movie in my head, watching everything play out in front of me in slow motion. I bent over and touched my brother's face again. The warmth that spread over my hand was comforting, even though it wan't there anymore. I saw clearly. Everything as it should be. Even if it shoudln't, because Niisan was dead.

The nurse crept into the room again and must have had enough of my sulking. She embraced me, her body warm. Warmer than anything I ever felt before and her fragrance bringing back those sentiments from before. "Mommy." I embraced and held to her with my only arm and cried into her chest.

_- August 11, 1917 ; Afternoon -_

I had adjusted to life in the hospital well. As promised, Colonel Mustang sent over someone every day to talk to me for an hour or two, depending on who they were. Breda taught me this Eastern version of chess that was easy to grasp. I only started tying with him a few days ago, though. He was more experienced than me and didn't explain all the rules unless I asked, which made it difficult to play when half the time my moves were illegal or stupid. Havoc would play the Amestris chess, Fuery and I would chit-chat about nothing, Hawkeye was very nice to me. Which was odd, because I thought she wouldn't like me after meeting again. I was being hysterical, after all. I still was hysterical, in all honesty. I just didn't look it. No one seemed to understand I was Alphonse Elric and for some reason I couldn't say it outright. Something kept me from telling these people I am Al. The Al they knew since my brother went under Brigadier General Mustang's order. (He got promotred. Imagine that?)

Scieska made it better, though. She was fun and eccentric and we could talk about books and she'd give me some to read and we'd talk some more till she was forced out. Roy never visited, but I suspected that they were doing an interview under his orders, to see when I would be 'stable' enough to open up about their case. His efforts were fruitless, though. I knew nothing and had nothing to say.

The pretty nurse, Beatrice, told me the nasal-voiced doctor, Grant, had deemed it all right for me to walk around and actually do things. I had been confined to the hospital bed for ever. I didn't mind too much for the first half. Just being able to feel and lie down and get tired, being uncomfortable, the soft blankets wrapped around me and the feel of water sloshing down my throat and stroking the flowers stems and smelling their sweet perfume, remembering Mom, all these made me feel blessed. It was always weighed down with a heavy feeling, because Niisan couldn't enjoy this with me. He couldn't be here and genuinely happy.

Sometimes, I'd imagine he was sitting next to me and saying how nice the morning looked and I'd answer with a smile. He'd pat my head and his limbs were all fine and that made me feel good again. He'd shake me a little and tell me to wake up and I'd cover my head and ask for ten more minutes.

I was always rudely brought back to reality by a scream of pain or cursing or a door slamming. But I was grateful. I ran my hand over the steel frame of the bed for hours, wondering if this was what Niisan's automail felt like.

There was a different mystery every day, which kept me sane in my immobility. What was this smell or that feeling, why was so and so cold or warm, a new question that I seeked answers for. Little questions, but they were always thrilling and I had time to cope and thinking about Niisan's leaving and deal with my guilt. I had made up my mind to be strong and not feel guilty for being happy, because this was all for Niisan. Because of Niisan. And one day I would thank him and everything would be all right.

The books kept me sane too. Not the ones I scoured over concerning alchemy, but fictional stories. Myths, legends, folklore and classics, whatever could rip me from the insane calm that lulled my world. Something to give me a wider view. Describing the feel of bark or the taste of pears. It could sweep me away somewhere I could revisit over and over and reread with some nostalgia as my views of that inky plane changed the more I experienced different places.

Ah, but there was the new bit of moving to worry about. No time to think about Ben Mears and 'salem's Lot for now. Beatrice gave the instrucions of the doctor that I could walk and do what ever provided I stay in the room. The first thing I did was swing my legs off the bed and crash onto the ground. Trish (it was a name she insisted I call her, she thought Beatrice sounded too stuck up) helped me back up and sat me down on the bed again. Still not used to the pain, it hurt five times more than it should have. "Careful, you're probably still not used to this moving business, lying around for three months."

"_Three_ months?" I asked.

"Yes," she said with the same sweet tone that always seemed to be on her lips. She checked my legs, both having small nicks and bruises on them, red diagonal slashes all along the thigh and calf. "Two of the three you were unconscious. There was a lot of military meddling to keep you alive. Brigadier General Mustang wasn't going to lose you."

"Why?" I asked, frowning. I wasn't an important person in the military's eyes. But this family suicide they kept talking about.

Trish gave me the same worried glance that Niisan would have when he had something he needed to hide from me. "It's really nothing I should be mentioning, it must have been too much for you to handle if you can't remember."

"Remember what!" I threw up the blankets in a temper. "What am I supposed to be remembering!" I can recall everything. All my life. I can see it all. I could write up to the very components of what I saw during my existence in Amestris. What was I supposed to be missing?

"Please, don't get mad Alan," she said tenderly.

"I am _Alphonse_!" I quickly covered my mouth and bit down on my fingers, tears again spilling. Them being more apologetic than angry or sad. This kind woman only wanted to help me. But I couldn't stand it. I had to speak my name aloud. I had to say it to know it was me. I had to. Somehow. To anyone. Even if I had to shake my fists at God Himself and scream to him I am Alphonse Elric I'd do it.

Taking a bandage out Trish took my hand and cleaned out my bloody fingers with alcohol rub and wrapped them. She had a handkerchief and wiped the blood stainging my mouth. She left immediately, her expression hurt. I curled up in the bed again, fists balled and tears stinging my eyes. I came back. Restored. But I still had no identity. Nothing to show myself as Alphonse Elric.

Painfully, slowly, I stood on my legs and hobbled over to the mirror at the side. It was funny putting one in a room, why would I need to look at a mirror for? Much less the visitors.

I went anyway. I didn't know what I looked like. This had never bugged me before. It was bugging me now.

Leaning into the mirror, a twisted image awaited.

Long dark blond tresses of hair, wild and sticking out in several directions. Milky skin . . . dark blue eyes. My hand pressed against the mirror, staring at what was supposed to be my reflection. But it wasn't. It was a different person looking back at me. A thin face, half covered with slashes. Eyes were wide, frightened. I stumbled backwards and fainted again.

_- August 11, 1917; Evening - _

"Al? Al! Alan!"

"Alphonse," I corrected. Or tried to. My voice slurred and sounded like I was choking on my saliva.

"What?" Brigadier General Mustang was above me again. Floating inches away from my face. I shut my eyes after glancing at him. "Repeat that, Alan."

"Alphonse."

"What?"

I rolled onto my right side to ignore him and whoever was with him. The faint smell of smoke signalled it was Havoc. Who smoked in a hospital? Remembering everything that happened, I touched my cheek and burst into tears, sobbing quietly into the pillow. As if my tear ducts actually had this much to discharge in the first place. Dammit.

_I own nothing. I have nothing. This isn't my body. This isn't my life. Niisan is gone. Everything is wrong. I can't stand this. I have nothing. I have nothing._ That was my train of thoughts as I lay there, crying.

"Let's go," Mustang said, turning and marching out the door, followed by two pairs of footsteps. Outside in the hallway a doctor yelled at Roy for always coming and disturbing 'the patient'.

The patient. Me. I was demoted to a noun.

_Oh, I could kill myself. _

Kill . . . myself . .

Exactly.

_- August 15, 1917; Midnight - _

I rolled out of bed and landed on the floor, causing a quiet thump. The limbs felt crushed, unable to move under some kind of gravity. There was nothing truly breakable in my room. Being slightly unbalanced seems to make doctors nervous.

I glanced out the window and threw out the idea of smashing it and jumping out. I could barely lift these legs, how much less with a chair? I looked up at the mirror. Crawling over to it, every move as painful as the first, I tried grabbing it with the only hand left. I didn't get it, but the mirror tipped slightly. More attempts. Finally, it came loose off the wall and fell, breaking into pieces beside me. Jagged pieces on the floor, some of the glass already in the skin.

My conscience must have agreed with me, it did not surface to guilt me as I slashed both wrists and brought the sharp glass to the veins of the neck. I pressed it against skin and dragged it. I gurgled and hands reached up covering my sight, not wanting to see the crimson that must have been pouring out. It hurt, so badly. And then, it all ebbed away. All of it left. I couldn't feel the body. All darkness.

A bright yellow light shining through it all. I could touch it. I entered it.

* * *

_- To Be Continued -_

End Notes: Al's POV gets me all mixed up and thinking, 'No! No! This doesn't sound anything like Al! NOO!'. And sometimes, 'What the hell is the plot of this thing! Do I have a plot! I don't have a plot! NOOOOOO!' XD It's kind of funny if you're not me and you listen to my inner self ranting on and on and on. Half the time about tuna. 0.o No wonder I never get any work done.

Mirror conveniently placed in Al's room as a way to try and get Suicidal!Al. I just thought that . . . you know . . . Al has tried to commit suicide a lot of times all ready so one more couldn't hurt. This fic is turning out a to be a little more angsty babble than I originally hoped for. It seems my unbalanced Al will have to wait before he goes outside into the world.

Bah, these end notes are put so I can amuse myself. No need to read them. Just clickies the 'go' for submittin' reviews and write something, yes? Flame, for all I care.

* * *

_Next; Chapter Three: Silhouette vs. Shadow _

Alphonse: What is the difference between that which is dark and that which is black? What makes a person? Their mind or their soul?


End file.
